


What You Might Call Obvious

by Giddygeek



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Imported, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-28
Updated: 2005-11-28
Packaged: 2018-02-11 03:33:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2052045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Giddygeek/pseuds/Giddygeek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Just so you know, you've ruined your chances of ever getting me to sleep with you," Rodney said, standing in John's doorway with his arms crossed over his chest and his crooked mouth set so firmly it was almost straight.</p><p>John blinked at him. "Okay?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	What You Might Call Obvious

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Merry and MissPamela for beta!

 

"Just so you know, you've ruined your chances of ever getting me to sleep with you," Rodney said, standing in John's doorway with his arms crossed over his chest and his crooked mouth set so firmly it was almost straight.

John blinked at him. "Okay?"

"I'm serious, Colonel! Can I come in?"

"No," John said. "You'll just make fun of my stuff again."

"Yes, well, what grown man takes a guitar and a poster to another galaxy? But fine." Rodney looked him right in the eye and said, loudly, "If you want me to stand outside your door and talk about the blowjobs you won't be getting--"

" _Dammit_ ," John said, and pulled Rodney into the room by a fistful of jacket, ignoring his triumphant smirk. The door slid shut behind them and he backed Rodney against it, glared at him until it seemed at least a little likely that Rodney would stay where he was put, and stalked away to sit at his desk. "Talk fast."

Rodney frowned at him. "Do you know how many times you've been a blip disappearing off the screen while I sat around, watching?"

"Twice," John said. "Kind of big occasions for me, Rodney. I'm not likely to forget."

"Three times, Colonel. I think it's safe to count the time we stopped your heart to save your life, don't you? Hmm? Good. Three. We're agreed. All in a twenty month span. And how many times have you gotten me to sleep with you, in those twenty months?"

"Never," John said, grimly. "Because _I wasn't trying_."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Please. You've been trying since the day we came through the stargate and left most of your military regulations behind. The way you say my name, the eye contact, sprawling in a chair while I'm working under the console, inches away? You haven't exactly been subtle!"

"That's not trying! That's--"

"That's not to mention all the times you've saved my life, and been waiting in the infirmary for me to wake up after yet another harrowing adventure on an alien world, and trusted me even though you have had reason not to." Rodney frowned at him. "You've been painfully obvious, Colonel. And you almost had me, I'll admit it--I might've slept with you, if I hadn't done a little math."

"Do you have _any_ control over your ego, McKay?" John crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head. "I haven't been trying to sleep with you. At most, I've been trying to keep you alive!"

"Over the next twenty-five years, we could have sex 3900 times," Rodney said, ignoring him, "if we averaged about four times a week, which I certainly could. In that same twenty five years, you'd come close to dying 45 times while I watched helplessly, if you continued averaging about 1.8 times a year, which you almost certainly will--and look how generous I'm being. I'm not even taking into account the number of times you could almost die while I fight to save you. I'm sorry, but in terms of risk assessment, those are just unacceptable numbers, Colonel."

"That's 87 orgasms for every time I almost died," John said. "You'd give up 87 orgasms just because--oh my God, you've got me thinking about it. Get out, McKay."

Rodney looked at him. He showed no signs of leaving but he was rubbing his hands over each other nervously, and his expression was tight, almost miserable. "I'd, uh. I’d give up a million orgasms if it meant I never had to see you vanish from the screen again, Sheppard."

"But giving up orgasms wouldn't mean--I haven't not died because we're not having sex!"

"True," Rodney said, frowning. "Hmm." He crossed his arms over his chest again and tipped his chin down. "I hadn't looked at it that way."

"Well, don't start _now_." John pushed himself off the desk and reached out to grab another fistful of Rodney's jacket, shove him right back into the hallway. "You're still under the influence of the Wraith enzyme," he said. "You're not thinking right. Go to bed and we'll forget we ever had this conversation, okay?"

Rodney clung to the edge of the doorframe, still frowning down at the floor. "Wait, wait, I'm not done thi--"

"Good night," John said, peeling Rodney's fingers off and pushing him into the hall, ducking back into his room and closing the door before Rodney had a chance to react. Then he leaned back beside it and closed his eyes.

3900 orgasms.

Rodney McKay was _insane_.

~~~~~

Over the next week, though, John couldn't stop thinking about it. One morning at breakfast he looked at Rodney, who was breaking every rule known to the science department and drinking coffee right over his keyboard, a piece of toast held in his free hand, crumbs everywhere, and thought about having four orgasms a week with him. Some traitorous part of his mind said _on average_ , which made John think about the non-average weeks, the ones where they fucked four times _a night_ just because they could, and the ones where they hadn't seen each other in days, maybe they were in different galaxies, and the ones where one of them was hurt or sick, the ones where they were mad.

Rodney scowled and there was a smear of jelly in the corner of his mouth, there was a coffee stain on his shirt, there were four orgasms a week waiting for John right there, and he had to shake his head, get up, dump his tray and walk away fast, fast, before he asked for the first one in the middle of the mess hall.

~~~~~

During their mission to Arelian, Rodney kept his distance. John relaxed, maybe a little too much, and didn't even think twice about how they settled the sleeping arrangements.

"Our tents are bigger," Rodney whispered as they struggled to lay out the sleeping mats and thin, soft blankets in the small, two-man tent they'd been assigned for the night. "And they don't smell like goat."

"It's not the size of the tent that matters, Rodney," John drawled as he finally got his gear sorted out enough for sleep and lay down.

In the darkness, he couldn't see Rodney, but he could almost feel the eye roll being aimed in his direction. Instantly, he regretted not thinking the sleeping arrangements through a little better. "Shut up," he said, rolling onto his side, facing the wall of the tent. "I am not obvious! I have nothing to be obvious about!"

Rodney snorted.

"I could go make you sleep in Ronon's tent, you know."

"Ronon needs a two-man tent just for himself," Rodney said, shuffling around some more before finally seeming to settle things to his satisfaction. He hit the ground with a contented sigh, undoubtedly flat on his stomach, his arms at his sides, his neck twisted uncomfortably. How he could sleep like that, John could never understand. "Oh, and another one for his hair. How Teyla is supposed to survive the night without being strangled by it, I don't know. Good thing she's little. Maybe she can sneak in under the hair's radar."

"Little is as little does," John said, thinking of Teyla on the enzyme, of Teyla before and after in their training sessions. Small package, big boom.

"Are you making another anatomy reference?" Rodney asked. "Are you, what do they call it, are you a size queen, Sheppard? Because--"

"You can sleep in the grass," John threatened, rolling over to glare in the darkness, not thinking at all about Rodney's anatomy, not thinking about the lack of orgasms in his life, certainly not thinking about Rodney saying _if we averaged four times a week, which I certainly could_.

"Be that way." Rodney huffed and shuffled around some more. His voice, when it came again, was muffled--he'd curled up on his side, probably tucked right up against the wall of the tent. "Sleep well, Colonel. Sweet dreams. You can take care of your morning erection _all by yourself_."

"Thanks, _I will_ ," John said, and rolled away too, more annoyed than he'd ever been in his life--

Well. More annoyed than he'd ever been in his life before Rodney McKay, anyway.

~~~~~

At the pre-mission meeting for their trip back to Arelian with more jumpers, Lorne and Rodney argued about just how much of the Arelian wheat a jumper could reasonably hold without either bursting or smothering the occupants, and John leaned back in his chair, played with his pen, watched Rodney's hands fly around shaping cubes and cones and the immense stupidity of Major Lorne, and wondered what it would feel like to have them urging him on to the 3899th orgasm. Smooth, he thought. Slick, because that was how he liked it. By then, knowledgeable, assured. Probably even better than the 3898th time.

Halfway through his lecture, Rodney turned to him for backup and caught him staring, and his eyebrows went up and his frowning mouth hung open just a second too long before it straightened smugly, and John raised his eyebrows back and dared him to say something, anything, knowing he wouldn't.

Except, dammit, "You've lost a whole week," Rodney said, mid-sentence. "Now tell Major Lorne that we need wheat more than he needs to send four Marines per jumper!"

"Private joke," John said to Elizabeth, Lorne, Zelenka, Teyla, Ronon and Caldwell, who were _all_ watching him by then because no one could resist focusing their attention where Rodney McKay had focused his. The damn idiot had focus like a black hole; it sucked everything and everyone within range along for the ride. "Lorne needs four Marines," he said, glaring, and Rodney scoffed at him and turned away, thankfully taking everyone else with him.

John stared down at the pen he was flipping between his fingers and didn't regret the lost week, not at all.

~~~~~

They got an extra day off for their good work on Arelian. John woke up early, went to the mess, grabbed a muffin that smelled like wheat and cranberries and garlic, although that was probably just pieces of the big, almost apple-like fruits the Athosians had found on the mainland, and ate it on the way to his training session with Teyla. He very carefully didn't look around for Rodney.

He passed Ronon on the way in to the gymnasium. "Hey," Ronon said. "Food?"

"Muffin," John said, holding it protectively. "Get your own. Teyla ready for me?"

"Took me down twice," Ronon said, sniffing the air. "Sure you wanna eat all that?"

John glared at him and stayed to the far side of the hallway, moving fast and closing the gymnasium doors behind him. "One of these days he's going to take food right out of someone's hand," he said to Teyla, who was stretching, back arched. "And just watch, it'll be McKay's hand and the next thing you know it's the gingham dog and calico cat, all over Atlantis."

Teyla straightened gracefully while John watched, appreciating the long, fine muscles of her body. She arched an eyebrow at him, clearly evaluating whether she wanted to know the meaning of 'gingham dog and calico cat', and deciding against it. John shrugged and offered her half the muffin.

"Poem for kids," he said. "Anyway, you ready?"

Twenty minutes later, he ate the last bite of muffin while flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling. "No, no, it hurts my ego more than my spine," he said. "Don't worry about me. Can I have my sticks back, please?"

"Give him the sticks and a head start, Teyla," Rodney said from the doorway. "It's very sad to see a grown Colonel crumble like that."

John got his elbows under him and stared up at Rodney. "I'd like to see you try this, Rodney. What are you on, is it still the tuck and roll?"

"It works for me and the pill bugs," Rodney said complacently. "Teyla, are you done with the Colonel for now? I need to borrow him for a few minutes."

"I am done," Teyla said, and John was pleased to note that she sounded a little out of breath. At least the session hadn't been a _total_ waste.

"I'm not done," he said, climbing to his feet as gracefully as he could. He stretched his arms, his back, not looking toward the doorway. "You wanna get in here, Rodney? Show us your stuff?"

"Hmm," Rodney said. "Interesting offer, Colonel Obvious, but no. I have actual important work things that I need to discuss with you. Come with me, please."

John grabbed a towel off the bench and rubbed his face with it, wiped his neck. "It's a free day, Rodney. No work."

"Ah, yes, time off. Funny how little appeal that has when you're the only thing standing between a smoothly run city and the meltdown of total incompetence. Are you coming or not?"

"Oh, well, if it's a meltdown," John said. He smiled at Teyla and slung the towel over his neck, followed Rodney out the door. "What's the problem?" he asked.

"You'll see when we get there," Rodney said, his mouth a tight line, his face averted.

John watched him suspiciously. "If this is some kind of surprise disaster--"

Rodney snorted. "You caused it, Colonel! It should hardly come as a surprise."

"Okay then, if this is about that thing with the spikes and the sucker, I thought it was some kind of ten thousand year old modern art piece," John said, following Rodney into one of the unused storage rooms.

Rodney whirled on him. "What thing with spikes and a sucker--you know what, never mind," he said, and then he pushed John against one of the tall columns filled with bubbling water and light, and kissed him.

For a second, John froze. Rodney's mouth was demanding, his hands were wrapped in the towel, his chest and hips and thighs were braced against John's like he thought he had to hold John up. Oh, fuck, John thought, and then his head was spinning, all _disaster_ and slick hands, and the way Rodney collapsed onto a sleep pallet in a dark tent and John knew exactly how he was lying, and Beckett saying, "He almost killed himself, trying to get to you," and Rodney's big mouth, and even, fuck, his _eyelashes_ and the coffee smell of him in the morning.

"Your fault," Rodney panted, pulling back for a second. "I was totally prepared to give this up, it's--" and his mouth was back, his teeth gentle on John's lower lip, his mouth opening wet and hot over John's.

" _I wasn't even thinking about it_ ," John said, and pushed Rodney, shoving until he had their positions reversed and Rodney's hands restlessly closing on the air above his head, John's hands firm on his wrists.

Rodney was maybe an inch shorter than him but John worked the advantage, doing his best to loom. Rodney helped unconsciously, tipping his head back, smug, haughty, confident in the utter rightness of his opinions, looking up from under his lashes. "I wasn't thinking about it," John said quietly. "And now it's all I think about."

"And you have only yourself to blame for not _doing_ anything about it," Rodney said. He wiggled, pushed, but John had the upper hand and years of training and stayed exactly where he was, exactly where he wanted to be.

"I'm doing something about it now," he said, and kissed Rodney harshly, kissed him tenderly, kissed him until he'd forgotten to hold Rodney's hands up and Rodney was wrapped around him, making noises in the back of his throat like encouragement and grinding against John's hip like a demand.

"Do more, do more," Rodney said when John dropped his hand and moved back a few inches, giving himself just enough room to get at the zipper of Rodney's pants, the drawstring of his own sweatpants loosening easily. He groaned, wrapping his hand around them both, pressing tight, their skin already slick and hot. Rodney's belly quivered against his knuckles as he echoed John's groan and said, "We've got, oh good--please--got ten days to make up for, ten days, that's--"

"Round to six times," John said, tightening his grip around them, leaning closer to kiss Rodney's mouth, open and panting, mostly missing. Rodney's cheek was stubble rough under his lips, against his cheek when John turned his head, against his neck when Rodney slumped against him a little.

"Six," Rodney said, groaned, and bucked into John's hand, his body curling, his forehead rolling heavy against John's shoulder. John liked it, everything, except it wasn't wet enough and Rodney didn't seem about to raise his head, not even long enough to use his mouth on John's hand which, fuck, the image--he raised his hand to his own mouth and licked his palm, moving fast, fast, because Rodney was whining like it was the end of the world, arching into him, pushing, demanding.

Just like him, John thought, amused, it was just like him to be so greedy, but it made his chest feel tight because Rodney had acted like there would only be the one time and maybe not even that, like part of him had been afraid John was going to stop it all, for good, forever.

"Shh, shh," he said against Rodney's temple, taking them both back in his hand, harder, slicker, "just take it," and Rodney groaned, hot breath leaving John's shoulder and collar bone feeling scalded. He came all over John's hand, all over their stomachs, and the extra wetness, the heat, the smell combined to make John lose control and follow, breathless, helpless, like it was the first time and not just the first of many.

~~~~~

"I think my heart stopped," Rodney said.

John grinned against his chest and pressed his ear down. It should've just been a joke but he found himself really listening to the steady, strong beat. "Sounds okay," he said. "I think you survived round one."

"Oh, round one. No, I meant when the hive ships took out all the darts. I really think it stopped. I mean, I stood there thinking _third time's the charm_ and _three strikes, you're out_ and all sorts of idiotic things and then it really hit me." Rodney's voice sounded musing, almost distant, which was abnormal enough to have John struggling up on his elbows to look down into Rodney's face, which was still flushed, his mouth loose and relaxed, though he didn't meet John's gaze.

"Anyway," Rodney said, looking away from him at the column beside them, glowing blue and silver in the dark storage room. "You do that again, for real, I will follow you beyond the grave to punch you in the head. I will make your afterlife a total hell."

"I'm not risking that," John said. He put a hand on Rodney's cheek and turned his head, making Rodney meet his gaze. "That is the _last_ thing I would ever want."

Rodney frowned up at him, studying his face, looking for something or looking past something. John let him look, trying to make certain that he understood.

"Yes, well, bear that in mind in the future, please," Rodney said after a while, and then he pushed at John's shoulder till John obligingly rolled onto his back, Rodney's weight settled firmly between his thighs. "You've _ruined_ your chances of ever getting rid of me," he said, "I hope you're happy now."

John smiled up at him and said "I think I am, actually," then pulled Rodney down to kiss him, and get them started on catching up.


End file.
